


Trevelyan? Are You Alright?

by Kingdom_of_Roses



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Drugs, F/F, Gen, Humor, Past Drug Use, References to Drugs, Swearing, exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingdom_of_Roses/pseuds/Kingdom_of_Roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ostwick Circle was a sedate place of study, Kinloch Hold didn't allow any training but what they needed to control a spell. Why would Trevelyan be in any condition to fight a war across the entirety of Thedas?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't going to be a romance, more of a thought exercise. But Josephine's romance is too cute to pass over.

~Solas~

Solas had done what he could to keep the mark from killing the mage, but if she didn’t wake up soon his magic would have to compensate for atrophying muscles too. Just like the previous two days, he looked in on the prisoner, checked Adan’s work, and then went back into the field to try a new idea with Varric at his side and Cassandra’s instructions at his back.

~Cassandra~

Cassandra was glowering at the prisoner again. Adan had said she would wake ‘soon’, but ‘soon’ had turned into 3 hours and Cassandra was never good at waiting patiently when she could hear battle. 

The prisoner sat up with a gasp and tried to flail about herself before realizing her hands were shackled. Cassandra gave instructions to the guards and went to find Leliana.

When Cassandra came back there was a bound mage in the middle of the room looking completely bewildered. After some yelling all Cassandra had learned was the mage was named Trevelyan, was from the Ostwick Circle, and was very, _very_ confused. Leliana pulled her away before she could test if the confusion was fake.

~Trevelyan~

The seeker was making her do the unbearable, the unspeakable, the unforgivable. She was making her _run_. Trevelyan was happy to dispatch demons, it gave her a chance to apply some of the theories she had read about. But the seeker was making her _run up a mountain._

“Can we” _wheeze_ “stop a moment” _gasp_ “I need” _cough hack_ “to breath!” 

Cassandra just stared at Trevelyan leaning on her staff like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The lanky woman was indeed a worrying shade of red.

“...We should get to the others soon,” was her reply, but Cassandra tried to set a slower pace. It seemed to work, since the wheezing grew quieter and stayed nearer than before.

Trevelyan noticed they were getting closer to a fight again, so she tried to get her breathing under control, but the burn in her thighs and calves was much more distracting than the books had led her to believe. Turns out she can either jog **or** pool mana. It wasn't like the Ostwick Circle had a gym for the mages (something about how twitchy Templars dislike distinguishing between exercise and fleeing from abominations) so in her 18 years at the Circle the most strenuous exercise they did was calisthenics and stretching for the sole purpose that they could stand up after 5 hours of study.

They fought demons, an elf stuck her hand in the green glowing floating crystal, she pulled on something, and it closed. _Finally_ she could collapse and ~~gurgle~~ breath. But wait, no, they were talking to her and expected her to respond. Ugh.

So Solas had kept her alive, she’d have to ask him about it when it didn't feel like parts of her lungs were getting stuck in her throat. When Varric and Cassandra started sniping at each other she let her head hang so that her mouth was covered by her scarf, allowing her take huge gulps of air without the cold ripping at her throat. Trevelyan noticed Solas eyeing her with concern, so she made an effort to slow down and stand straight, causing her back to click.

“You wouldn't happen to have any water in that pack? I seem to have displaced mine,” Trevelyan said with her best smile, the one that had gotten her an extra muffin from the circle cook.

“You might try breathing in through your nose,” Solas offered as he rummaged around in his pack. He pulled out his waterskin and handed it over. She did her best to not snatch and chug, she was the daughter of a bann after all, but judging by Cassandra’s face, she didn't completely succeed. Varric just laughed.

Trevelyan blushed and handed the waterskin back, “I assume we have to start climbing another section of this blasted mountain?” She looked to Cassandra, who nodded. **Ugh**.

By what she thinks is her ninth fight since waking up, her shoulder is clicking every time she raises her staff above her head, there is definitely a popped blister on her heel, and her breathing has taken on the pitch of a tea kettle. But they’re at the forward camp, finally, and she can sit before her legs give out.

Except there’s a Chancellor yelling at her about being ~evil~ and Cassandra is actually giving her a chance to voice her opinion. It’s a shitty choice: more climbing or more running. 

Trevelyan sighs and casts a rejuvenate spell. She had to be careful using it since it took **a lot** of mana to cast. Climbing through the mountain sounds less cold and less dangerous to the soldiers than running at a flank of demons. Cassandra grimaced at her decision, but Trevelyan caught a thumbs up from Varric. At least someone was having fun.

Climbing, fighting, _more_ climbing, _more_ fighting, almost missing the ladder down and falling on her face, but they were finally out of the mine. 

They reached what was left of the temple and Trevelyan could only stare, well, stare and not retch. Seeing a field of burned corpses that smelled like the Satinalia feast was breaking her brain. Leliana’s arrival was a welcome distraction.

Unfortunately the rejuvenate had worn off and she was back to gasping for breath and using her staff to keep herself upright. On the way down to the breach she was so caught up in listening to the booming voice and breathing she almost stumbled into the red glowing crystals. Varric grabbed for her, “Whoa there, don’t touch that! Bad stuff happens when red lyrium touches you.”

“That’s lyrium?!” She instantly jumped away. Well, **tried** to jump, her feet instead went ‘fuck you’ and she landed on her ass. Seeing her struggle to get back up, Cassandra offered a hand.

They got down to solid fighting ground without trouble, but then Cassandra was yelling at her again, and she still had no clue what had happened. Then more good news: they had to open the rift to close it “properly”. And probably more demons. **_UGH._**

It was a fucking relief to pass out after getting thrown a half dozen times by the pride demon and her arm turning into ~~pins~~ nails and needles from closing the breach. At least being unconscious meant someone else had to haul her ass down the mountain.


	2. Hinterlands

~Cassandra~

“Can we set up camp here?” came the raspy gasp at Cassandra’s feet.

She was on the ground, spread eagle, once again gasping for air. Admittedly, Trevelyan’s endurance was much better than when they first met. She could now travel on foot for triple her previous distance. It’s just her previous distance was so short.

“No, Herald, the scouts have a place mapped out just over that hill,” Cassandra watched her grimace and prop herself up on her elbows.

“Cassandra, this entire area is hills. It’s hills on hills, and just when you think you’re over it, **more hills** ,” she flopped back down, in Cassandra’s opinion a touch dramatically, and sighed. “Just leave me for the bears. At least then I’d get some rest.”

Cassandra glanced around for help, but Solas was busy gathering the ridiculous amount of elfroot they needed, and Varric looked content to watch.

Cassandra crouched by Trevelyan’s head, “I’ll make you a deal,” Trevelyan looked hopeful, “if you get up now, I wont make you run an extra 10 laps around Haven when we get back.” 

“Andraste’s knicker weasels!” Cassandra was impressed with how fast the Herald got to her feet, even though it was a bit like watching a colt stand for the first time.

“Fine! Where is this blasted camp? And you’re leading because I’m not breaking trail anymore today.”

The blasted camp turned out to be over three hills away, not one. Cassandra might have lied a little.


	3. Between Haven & The Storm Coast

~Trevelyan~

“When’s our next stop? It’s got to be soon, yes? We haven’t had tea yet! Tea’s a good reason to stop.” Maybe if she channeled her 16 year old self they’d let her off the blighted horse. She heard stifled giggles from one of the soldiers in the back.

“Herald, we stopped an hour ago. If we stop every hour we’ll never make it to the coast,” Cassandra resisted the urge to rub her temples. 

Trevelyan shifted a bit to get blood flowing back to her ass. Prior to a month ago she had no experience riding for more than a couple hours at a time, on a pony, and that was from before the circle. For _some_ reason her mother had never proposed 10 hour horseback rides. Seeing as she had grown three hands taller and filled out since then, it wasn't surprising she was having trouble adjusting to riding for the entire day. She rode like a sack of potatoes and couldn't find the rhythm of her horse, who liked putting his ears back at her. 

The first time they had ridden into the Hinterlands everyone had been surprised when she couldn't get down without help. (“Get me down dammit! Before I fall off and break my neck and then where would you be?!”) (She might have panicked.) She'd then slowly collapsed to the ground and crawled into her tent while whimpering. She had kept telling herself if she toughed it out for another hour her legs and ass and back would stop hurting. They didn't. Since developing better posture was taking too long, Trevelyan had opted to ask for frequent stops.

One more test, “Please Cassie? My saddle sores have saddle sores! Just let me walk at the back, I won't even complain about eating dust.”

Cassandra ground her teeth at the nickname, “If you can wait two more leagues we’ll be at our evening camp,” she watched Trevelyan droop in her saddle. “We’ll have your tea and I might have a salve for the sores.” Maker, she needed to get that woman padded riding pants.


	4. Haven

~Cullen~

The Herald was certainly… awe inspiring.

One of the first things Cassandra had approached him about after closing the main rift at the Temple was a modified training schedule for Trevelyan. When she said, “Trevelyan has less endurance than a newborn kitten.” Cullen had tried to laugh, but Cassandra was glowering in the direction of the Herald, who was gesturing wildly while talking to Varric. Cullen winced when she almost smacked herself in the face. 

“I can’t put her in with the recruits, unless you want her to learn sword work,” Cullen had pointed out.

Cassandra had shook her head, “She’s decent with her staff, but she gets winded walking up the stairs.”

So here he was, making sure she did her laps around the lake. It wasn't that she would shirk her training, but she would finish faster when watched. Plus they needed to make sure she didn't fall onto the ice. What impressed him the most was the amount of swearing she did when climbing over rocks; she may have introduced him to some new variations.

She was almost done so time to change things up, “Your Worship, staff over head for this last lap!” 

“Go fuck a druffalo you fucking bear,” she gasped, but pulled her staff out and held it in a two handed grip over her head. Cullen supposed the only proper response was to make her wear enchanter armor next time instead of the light coat she currently wore in the field.

When she made it back to his position he insisted she start stretching. No one wanted a repeat of the first time. That done, it was time to save his recruits from Cassandra.


	5. In Hushed Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only so many ways that future can be made humorous, and this is my attempt.

“You… are a mistake! You should never have existed!”

“NO!”

~*~*~*~

~Trevelyan~

She was swallowed by a giant green whirlpool and spat out in a really wet dungeon. Ooo, enemies! Something about an ~Elder One~ before her fireball ate their faces.

“Displacement? Interesting!” The Tevinter mage was still with her. What was his name again? Wait, he was still speaking, “It’s probably not what Alexius intended…” but her attention was drawn to the pretty singing coming from the warm red rocks. 

“Time travel? Don’t be silly! I've done this before, back at Ostwick.” She took a firm stance, knowing her balance would be shot from whatever had gotten into her system. 

His eyebrows drew together, “Done what before?” He pulled out his book and charcoal, “Can you describe what you’re feeling right now?”

“Well, it feels a bit like when Drew put aquae lucidius in the breakfast juice.” She started walking carefully forward, one foot placed precisely in front of the other, towards the burned corpses. Dorian started making notes while she _very carefully_ bent over to fish out a key. “But it also has the feeling of pipeweed around the edges.”

Dorian snorted, “Do that often?” He made another note in his book.

Trevelyan flapped a hand at him, “No, no… maybe only… on the holidays?” She swayed as she stood up with her prize and took deliberate steps towards the cell door. It took her three tries to get the key into the lock. Dorian followed her careful steps out into the hall, watching while the mage zoned out looking at the red lyrium again.

“Dear, you might not want to do that,” Dorian tried to pull her further along the passage.

She looked surprised, then patted his cheek, “Oh good, the pretty man is still here.” Another note went in his book. “We should go this way,” she pointed up the right hand set of stairs.

“Alexius has made a dreadful mess of the place, hasn't he?” Trevelyan agreed with a raspberry.

Eventually they made it to a weird indoor drawbridge... thingie. Trevelyan sighted down her staff with one eye closed and her tongue sticking out a little in concentration. “I’m seeing one in front of me, can you take the twins on the other side?”

“Trevelyan, I only have one in front of me.”

“Oh good,” she released another fireball, cackling when it made the guard run off the platform. 

Since the drawbridge was still up, she wanted to search behind any doors they could get to. Hopefully they could find controls. Instead, at the bottom of one bank of cells they found Cassandra.

“Cassandra! You’re glowing! That’s a neat trick, you never said you could do that!” Trevelyan swayed really hard to the right while she unlocked the seeker’s cell.

“You've returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?” Trevelyan wasn't paying attention again, the design on the wall was really captivating, especially since she thought it was drawn in blood. “... if the dead return to life.”

“AhHa! Looks like I’m not the only one tripping! Makes way more sense than” she wiggled her fingers at Dorian “~time travel~” Trevelyan spotted a sword and shield leaning against the wall, “And here’s your shit! That was nice of them.”

Bewildered, Cassandra looked to Dorian. “Alexius sent us forward in time. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.” 

“And the Herald?”

“She… appears to believe she ingested hallucinogens. Some side effect of punching through time is interfering with her senses.” Trevelyan tried to lift the shield, but only succeeding in stumbling forward. “Oof.”

“Is she fit to fight? Can you go back in time and make it so none of this ever took place?”

“I just need to come down and then you can go back to making me run my ass off. Two hours, five tops,” Trevelyan came back towards them.

Dorian made even more notes, “None of what?” he asked Cassandra, letting her gather her weapons before following the swaying form of Trevelyan up the stairs.

She knew she should be paying attention to what Cassandra said, but the air was so distracting! It sparkled and sang and chirped at her. She really needed to find out what she had taken and try it again when no one wanted to kill her. For research purposes, of course.

As she passed another bank of cells she heard “Andraste’s sacred knickers. You’re alive!” Ha! She had found Varric. Whatever she was on it made her better at finding lost things, sorta pulling her in the right direction. Probably helped that there were no hills in this castle. Hills always messed her up.

“Where were you? How did you escape?” Varric got up from where he was sitting.

“You’re glowing too! Did you and Cassandra learn this in Kirkwall? You've been holding out on me!” She got the key in the lock on the first try. “You saw the green whirlpool, it obviously got all of us.”

Dorian cut in, “We didn't escape. Alexius sent us into the future.” 

Trevelyan blew another raspberry at Dorian while gesturing rudely. “That doesn't make anymore sense now than the last two times you've said it.”

Varric looked between the two mages, “Everything that happens to you is weird.” He then spotted Bianca on a nearby table and rushed over to fondle her.

“Er... yes. If we get to Alexius I just _might_ be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.” Dorian belatedly realized he had lost track of the Herald. Spinning around he saw the edge of her coat disappear around the door leading to the stairs going up. “Blasted woman’s going to walk off the edge chasing butterflies!”

The three of them rushed to follow her, coming out of the dungeons in time to see her attack five guards with lightning. Dorian itched to write down his observations: she was still having obvious issues with her balance, but her strikes were coming twice as fast as the last time he saw Trevelyan deploy this spell. But then a sword was swinging for his head and he had to fight.

Trevelyan looked around. No more men and the drawbridge was down. Good. She could follow the pull up the stairs now. Except now the walls were doing that thing she had seen once before when she and Elizabeth had tried mixing the Antivian port with the pipeweed.

“Okay, we need to be very _very_ careful right now,” She said in a hushed whisper. “Any loud noises will make the walls draw in, which we all know is bad. So step where I step and be _quiet._ Trust me, I've done this before.”

“You feeling alright there, Wheezy?” Varric’s voice had an interesting hum behind it, but he was speaking too loud. Dorian was making another note.

“Shhhhh,” Trevelyan held a hand up to her lips while the other used her staff to keep the floor level. Once it looked like they had the message, she continued forward.

After a little bit she heard raised voices. Eyeing the walls with concern, she picked up her pace. She found the source and burst through the door, distracting the torturer from Leliana. Who killed him with her thighs. Huh.

“Holy shit! Did I take the brown stuff?! They always said to avoid it! Shitshitshitshitshit!” Leliana’s face was so very **wrong**. She didn't want to end up like Enchanter George! He thought he could fly and he really, really couldn't.

“You’re alive!” Leliana sounded **drained** , “Do you have weapons?”

Trevelyan couldn't answer because she was double checking her hands and face. Very important things to do when confronted with accidental consumption of lysergide. 

“It looks like there is a bow and arrows in this chest, Leliana,” Cassandra pointed behind the door, sending a worried look at the mage.

“Good, the magister is probably in his chambers,” Leliana spared a glance for Trevelyan before equipping herself.

Dorian was explaining his foolish theory again, but Trevelyan wasn't paying attention. The pull had turned into a tug and she would swear she could hear whispering. Deciding the tug was more sane than the angry, deformed Leliana, she followed it after picking up another key.

“Guys, Wheezy’s making a break for it again. Maybe we should follow?”

Cassandra helped Trevelyan keep her balance while walking over the suspended grating, “Why? Why have this in your basement? It’s so silly,” she groused before noticing her hand was doing it’s pins and needles and brightly glowing thing. “Demons ahead!”

After the fight Dorian took more notes while Cassandra opened the gate and Trevelyan gazed at the ritual in the middle of the room. Varric bumped her, “So, Wheezy, want to explain how you know about so many drugs?”

She shrugged, “There wasn't much to do in the circle except study, eat, sleep, drink, fuck, or take mind altering substances.”

“But the templars…”

“Had better things to do, like take their own drug. Made them smell wonderful and at the same time scary intense. Half the time we could hear them laugh at our antics. This one time they were laughing so hard an enchanter got bit on the ass by his ‘pet dragon’. He heard about Kinloch Hold and thought he could do better.”

“Suddenly I have a whole new image of the southern circles,” Dorian looked up from his writing.

Cassandra harrumphed at them, “If we may continue?” She gestured to the open gate.

They traveled through a dock area where two dumbasses turned themselves into demons and then they were out of the castle for the first time since the whirlpool swallowed her.

“Are you guys seeing the floating castle pieces, or is that just me?” Trevelyan wondered if she had misjudged how much drug was in her system.

“Not just you Wheezy, this is the work of the Venatori.” Varric spoke from her side.

“Oh. Good. No wait, shared hallucinations are bad, that means magical drug, which means I start accidentally throwing out ice spells,” Trevelyan muttered to herself, still mindful of the way the walls wanted to close in.

Cassandra looked incredulous, “They let you take magicked drugs? Why?!”

“It was a controlled experiment! Templars all around to make sure only the room got singed instead of the entire floor burning!” She huffed defensively.

“But you said ice,” Varric pointed out

“Well, Thom liked fire, which was a lot better than Suzy’s entropy spells. Took an hour to get the slime outta my hair,” She grimaced at the memory. Then she pointed, “And we’re all seeing the demons?”

Varric sighed and aimed Bianca, “Yes Wheezy, we see the demons.”

Two closed rifts later, they were back inside the castle, following Trevelyan’s still unsteadily careful path.

In the main hall they find a group of venatori around another rift fighting the demons, which seems odd. She thought they’d be on the same side if the venatori were behind the breach. They’d seen her. “Balls!” 

When the last demon died and the rift closed, Trevelyan saw something shiny in the hand of the spellbinder. She rushed to pick it up, “So pretty.”

Dorian plucked it from her grasp before she did something strange, like lick it. “What in Andraste’s name is this? I’m holding on to it.”

Trevelyan pouted, but then turned towards the end of the hall, which was now blocked off. Whoever Alexius employed to alter Redcliffe Castle, they worked fast. Dorian saw where she was looking, saw the new door, and rushed over.

“Maker’s breath! Where did Alexius find this? How did he even move it here?” Dorian was aghast.

Trevelyan poked at one of the five holes around the center, “Do you think the pretty will fit? They look about the same size.”

Dorian looked at the tile before holding it in front of the door. There was a slight pull from one of the slots. “Yes, I think it just might. We need to find the other four.”

Getting the other four was both easy and hard: easy to find, hard to take. Especially when their owners wanted to keep them and had bodyguards on hand to enforce their opinion. Trevelyan’s opinion was stronger. Helped that Cassandra agreed with her.

Back at the door Dorian held the tiles out and they all watched them float to their slots, slide in, and start pulsing light as the door opened.

“Alexius! My old friend! I think I owe you my staff up your ass while I fire off a few spells. What The Fuck did you give me?” While being high as balls was entertaining, even Trevelyan knew fighting like this lowered her survival odds.

“I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure.” Bastard didn't even have the decency to face her while spouting Dorian’s batty theory.

“Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?” Right, Dorian cared about his kooky teacher. Cannot kill him over drugging her. She’d settle for heavy bruising. (A voice in the back of her mind had started gibbering at Alexius’ words. How did he know Dorian’s theory?)

“It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” Well that’s just depressing.

“I am going to drag you to Haven by your poncy ears from the back of my horse if you don’t start making sense!” A look to her left to see if she was the only one lost. Varric’s face showed she was. Fucking fantastic.

“All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?” Alexius sure did like to monologue. “Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.” (Gibbering grows louder.) 

Then things go from shit to fucked when acid Leliana holds acid Felix hostage (acid Felix looks like he has a bad case of the blight sickness). 

For the first time since coming to Redcliffe Dorian looks like he got sucker punched in the gut, “That’s _Felix?_ Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

“He would have died, Dorian! I _saved_ him!”

Trevelyan snorted, “If that’s your definition of ‘saved’, I’d hate to see what ‘mortally wounded’ looks like.”

“Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Cassandra spoke up, “Give us the amulet and we’ll let him go.” It could be the hum in her voice, but Trevelyan thought there was something odd about what Cassandra said.

“Let him go, and I swear I’ll get what you want.” Good, they could work with that. She looked at Leliana, expecting the spymaster to step back.

“ _I_ want the world back.” A spray of blood signaling the end of their bargaining chip, wonderful. (Gibbering intensifies.) 

It took a very long fight to take Alexius down, with Cassandra taking the brunt of the attacks because Alexius liked spirit runes, but him opening the rifts was fun for the whole family. Ugh.

“He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius…”

“Those” _pant_ “were not” _wheeze_ “the actions of someone” _gasp_ “who wanted to die!” She had been doing so well, too. Cassandra was going to murder her on Haven’s lake.

Dorian looked at Varric, “Wheezy. Now I get it. Couldn't come up with something more original?”

“Couldn't call her Tiny with Bull around, Beanpole doesn't fit quite right, and Flappy is asking for an “accidental” smack the next time she talks to me.”

Dorian bent over and pulled an amulet out of the pile of goo that had been Alexius, “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen a rift.” 

(Trevelyan could now make out words in the Gibbering: It’s Real! It’s all Real! Fuck! REAL!)

“An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!” Leliana shouted while Varric and Cassandra nodded in agreement. Suddenly a terrifyingly loud screech of metal stopped all talk. “The Elder One.”

“You have to hurry. This… is bad.” Varric traded glances with Cassandra, “We’ll hold the main door. Once they break through, it’s all you Nightingale.” 

Trevelyan staggered with the shaking floor, “What’s going on?! Why do you look like you’re going to get yourselves killed? I just want to stop tripping”

Dorian dragged her towards the dais, “I’ll make it stop once we’re back, I promise.”

All she could do was watch while demons tossed her comrades back into the room and gutted Leliana. Then Dorian had the green whirlpool open and was pushing her in and through.

~*~*~*~

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian sure was cocky. Trevelyan opted for tackling Alexius to the floor and punching him a few times.

“Wheezy! Stop!” Varric, who was just _dead_ , was pulling her off the magister. Having a panic attack sounded like a good idea, so that’s what she did. Something was happening outside of her harsh breathing and tears, but she couldn't muster up the energy to give a fuck.

A little time later she thinks Dorian takes her hands and heals the bones she broke on Alexius’ face. Coming out of her haze she sees Alexius bound and surrounded by Inquisition troops, and, Maker take her, the King of Ferelden waiting to talk to her.

“The mages can’t stay here, Arl Teagan won't stand for it, but the Right Hand of the Divine indicates you have a use and a place for them, _outside_ of Ferelden.” Anyone who could be that pissed and still be jocular was someone to be feared.

“Uh, yes, we need mages to seal the sky. We’d be quite happy to take them off your hands.” It’s only then she realizes she probably has snot and tears on her face. Wonderful impression to make.

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Fiona demanded. Save everyone’s asses while unexpectedly high and they still wanted more.

“Allies, you’re going to be our allies,” Trevelyan avoided Cassandra’s disapproving frown. 

“I’d take that offer if I were you. One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.” Still pissed, still very pissed. She needed to leave now if she wanted her head to stay where it should be.

Fiona decided to be practical and accepted Trevelyan’s offer, which was good, because she was already headed to the door and out of the blighted castle.


	6. Josephine's Office

~Josephine~

Josephine looked up when her door slammed open and then quickly slammed closed. The Herald leaned back against her door, panting, and with a slightly wild look in her eyes.

“Hide me!” came the strained whisper from Trevelyan.

“Herald?”

“Hide me! I fu- um, did something stupid.” The Herald tensed when she heard footsteps, only relaxing when they passed the door. Josephine glanced at Minaeve who was staring slack jawed at Trevelyan.

“It would help to know whom you wish to hide from,” Josephine got up to mask her amusement.

“Cassandra. I, uh, well, Varric bet me that I couldn't hit the training dummy with a snowball, and 3 coppers was on the line-”

Josephine broke into the stream of words, “3 coppers?”

“He originally said 5 royals, but I said ‘no’ so he said of course I couldn't do it and bet 3 coppers. So I had to do it!”

“Ah. And why is Cassandra after you?” Josephine prompted.

“Turns out I can’t hit the dummy from 10 paces, but I can hit the back of Cassandra’s head from 15.” The panic was back in Trevelyan’s eyes.

“Oh dear,” Josephine bit down on the smile threatening to make an appearance, “It might be a tight fit, but you can hide under my desk.”

Trevelyan slumped with relief, “Thank you! I’ll owe you dessert or something!” She rushed to get under the desk. 

Josephine made sure she wouldn't kick Trevelyan while using her desk and then set about finishing reports. “Oh, Herald, while I have you here, I received a letter from Lady Buttlefort which concerns your relatives…”

~*~*~*~

~Varric~

“Varric, if I may have a word?” He knew it only sounded like a request, yet when Ambassador Montilyet had that look it was an order.

“I’ve got time, what do you want to know?”

“You’ve seen the Herald throw in the field, have you not?”

Shit. “A few times. She’s got quite the arm on her,” he hedged.

“So then you know she pulls to the left.” Again, not a question.

“She may have informed the group what she had missed a few times.”

“And being an archer, you would know by how much she missed. And set up the bet so that Cassandra was within that range,” Josephine looked both pissed and amused. Could go in his favor, then.

Josephine gave him a significant look, “It would be in the in the Inquisition's best interest if the Herald was not scared of Cassandra’s retaliation. And she wouldn't have to tell Cassandra who put her up to throwing snowballs in her direction.” 

Varric sketched a bow, “I will refrain from using Wheezy to get back at Cassandra.”

“Thank you Varric. I have enough to do without hiding the Herald of Andraste under my desk,” She tossed over her shoulder as she went back to writing notes on her portable writing kit.

Varric’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. _Under her desk? I can work with that._ He may have just found the new hook for his book.


	7. Fallow Mire

~Cassandra~

“Herald, your boot is fine. You need to put it back on before that undead notices us.” Admittedly, the undead in the Mire are slow and near sighted (can they even see with eyes that rotted?), but Cassandra didn't think now was the time to check equipment.

“I knew it! There’s a hole a couple of inches below my knee. _That’s_ why my sock is wet.” Trevelyan hopped on one foot while dragging her boot back on.

“Or it could be that it hasn't stopped raining since we got here and you insist on stepping in the puddles,” Dorian sniffed and flicked water off his face. “Why did you drag me out here? I thought you liked me.”

Not for the first time Cassandra wondered what she had done to end up babysitting _two_ finicky mages. “If we light those beacons we would have a dry path through this.”

“Dry _er_ , not dry. And those things call undead and fear demons.” Trevelyan made a face at the squelching noise coming from her boot.

Cassandra privately thought that killing a fear demon or five would be better than listening to the mages complain about the weather.

Varric snickered at Cassandra’s face, “Wheezy, take pity on the person who’s ass-deep in bog water instead of knee-deep. Plus Bianca is getting muddy.”

“As long as you don’t attack any more bogfishers we’ll go find a beacon,” Trevelyan spun in a slow circle, “Which way was the last one?”

“See that stone on your left?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s on high ground?”

“Yes?”

“That’s the first one.”

“Shit. I went in a circle again, didn't I?”

“Twice,” Dorian interjects acidly.


	8. In Your Heart Shall Burn

~Trevelyan~

She ground out a mumbled “Maker’s dick” when she opened her eyes. Trevelyan tried to get to her feet, yet the moment she put weight on her left arm an intense spike of pain shot into her bruised brain. After struggling a few moments, she let her stomach win in its bid to empty itself. “Shit, that’s not good.” 

Trevelyan started poking around to see what else hurt. She gingerly felt her head for soft spots, “Concussion based on the barf and dizzies.” Carefully pulling her gauntlet down she looked at her left wrist, “bad bruising from _that asshole_ , damn he had big claws, but nothing feels broken,” her fingers worked up to her shoulder, “Ow! Maferath’s balls that **hurts!** I felt it come out when he jerked me up, but it’s back in. Shouldn't it hurt _less_ now?” Using only her right hand she felt around her torso, “And I either cracked my ribs on the way down or bruised the muscle.” So the only parts of her that didn't throb with pain were her legs, and those ached with bruises.

Looking around she saw her lyrium potions had been crushed in the fall and she had used her health potions when facing the behemoth of moving red crystals. Shuddering at the memory of his skin singing as he syphoned her magic away, she contemplated her two options: wait for someone to find her, or she could go find them. Since the someone was more likely to be a deformed templar, she didn't want to wait. Being careful of her arm Trevelyan got to her feet, this time without her stomach protesting. Only thing to do was walk forward and hope bears didn't live down here.

~*~*~*~

She had read five, maybe six medical books that covered hypothermia, and at least a dozen more that had used it as a plot device. All pointed conclusively that it was going to hurt to step into the blizzard currently wailing in front of her. At least she was wearing her bearskin armor.

Now to decide on a direction. She knew Haven was in the Frostbacks, so the mountains around her were probably… the Frostbacks. That peak over on her right kinda shared similarities with the peak the signal had gone up behind, but the one on her left also had similar mountainy qualities. Like rocks… and snow. “Fuck.”

Pulling her hood close to her face she started off towards the peak in the middle. 

After an hour of slogging through snow she took a break. While her thigh-high boots were wonderful at keeping the snow off her more tender bits the metal greaves had to go. It took a minute of fumbling with the straps at her ankles to decided she didn't need the metal bits on her gauntlets either. “If they ever need t’ find me all they need t’ do is follow the armor,” Trevelyan bit out between shivers. Every few steps she double checked that she was still heading towards the mountain she had picked in the beginning. It’d be too perfect to survive that monster only to die because she walked in a circle in the middle of this forsaken blizzard.

Two hours after that she found proof that she was not, in fact, the only human to ever exist in this white, cold, sharp, and painful world. It was cold proof, and could be from some blight-touched hunter, but it was a fire pit on the path she hoped led to the Inquisition. She hoped they weren't too far ahead; her brain was starting to feel fuzzier and keeping her balance on numb feet was getting harder, both signs her hypothermia was progressing like the books said it would if she stayed in the wind and cold. 

Another hour saw Trevelyan fall, try to brace with her bad arm, and roll in the snow, completely soaking her shirt and scarf. “Andraste’s fiery tits!” Her shirt was cotton, and wet cotton on her core meant death, which meant stripping it off in the middle of a blizzard. That sounded fun. She actually felt a lot better with everything off. The coat was so heavy and _hot_. Why did she need it again? She was five paces away before she remembered clothing was kinda essential in a snowstorm and that frozen tits hurt. Someone liked her because everything was where she dropped it. Everything but the sash she used to keep the coat closed. Trevelyan snorted at the image of someone finding her frozen solid with her tits exposed. “Perfect end t’ the Herald ‘f Andraste. She burned ‘n’ I’ll freeze. Asshole up there haza sense ‘f syma, symmetry.”

A half hour later she wasn't even trying to keep the coat closed, instead focusing all her energy on moving forward. Then she stumbled over another fire pit, but this one had embers. Maybe. Unless her brain was giving up and giving her what she wanted. “Here seems like a good place t’ rest. Then I’ll get back t’ cleaning the workshop.”

~Cullen~

“You need to find her. ‘So fucking hot. Did Drew activate the fire rune? Too much effort to freeze his ass.’ She’s close, but not for much longer. You need to help her!”

Cullen looked up to find the pale boy sitting in front of him. “How in the Maker’s name is someone too hot? Go inform a healer.”

“No! She’s in the snow, but she thinks she’s at home. She needs help,” Cole pointed at the edge of camp, back towards Haven.

Cullen jumped to his feet, “Someone wandered away? Go fetch Cassandra!”

When he reached the edge of camp he started looking for the trail leading away, except there wasn't any. Taking a few more steps out incase the wind had blown away the trail, he saw the abandoned fire pit the scouts had used to keep warm. About to turn back to get Cole, Cullen saw a lump of snow shift, revealing a leather clad shoulder.

He rushed over and started digging the poor fool out. “You’re lucky Cole heard you. What were you doing out here? The sentries should have stopped you.” With another swipe at the snow he had his answer. “Maker’s breath!” he gasped. Then louder for Cassandra, “It’s her! She made it!”

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra came up with a blanket just as Cullen cleared enough snow to show the Herald had lost her shirt along the way. 

“I've, ah, heard of this. Soldiers get caught in snowstorms and get too confused and take off their clothes.” Cullen blushed furiously as he pulled Trevelyan into a rescue carry. She squeaked out a “You Fucker!” when he pulled on her left arm, but otherwise she wiggled into his shoulder and made cooing sounds about bearskin rugs before passing back out. Cassandra tossed the blanket over Trevelyan as they made their way towards the healer’s tents.

~*~*~*~

~Trevelyan~

The first time she woke up just long enough to drink something really horrible.

The second time she got the chance to count fingers, toes, ears, nose, and tits. All in place and working, success! Time for more sleep after more disgusting potion.

The third time she heard arguing, but it sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. If they really wanted her attention they’d come and get it. The healer noticed she was awake again and forced another dose on her.

The fighting was still going the fourth time she decided to wake up. Instead of a healer ambushing her, Mother Giselle was waiting for her. 

“Shh, you need rest.” She made a placating gesture. 

“They've been at it for hours.” Trevelyan braced herself for a theological discussion, and Mother Giselle didn't fail to deliver. 

T: ~Are we safe?~

MG: ~The answer is ‘maybe’ but let me take 5 minutes to tell you that~

T: ~Why can’t I help plan?~

MG: ~You died and came back~

T: ~No I didn't~

MG: ~But it _looks_ that way~

T: ~I’m going to give you a non-answer about my beliefs in the hopes you’ll leave me be~

MG: ~And I’m going to sing a hymn!~

As soon as Mother Giselle started singing Trevelyan froze. _Nooo! don’t do that! They’re looking at me. Huh Leliana can sing. Nooo others are joining. WOW Cullen can sing. And now they’re kneeling. Shit, they’re kneeling to **me**. Not good. How do I get out of this?! I hate being the center of attention! And now I have to pee, thanks Mother Giselle._

Rescue comes in the unlikely form of Solas, “A word?”

She follows him until they’re at the edge of what she really hopes isn't a ledge. He’s actually complimenting Mother Giselle, but Trevelyan’s too distracted by how much open space is around her to catch everything. She never really considered it before, but she very much likes being in smaller, more enclosed spaces: the Circle, the woods of the Hinterlands, even the Fallow Mire’s weather made it enclosed, safe despite the undead. This? The clear sky and no trees and miles of visibility has her unsettled.

Trevelyan can refocus when Solas offers knowledge. Ostwick never had many books on the ancient elves and it was difficult to convince other circles to send copies.

But then “Scout to the north, be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place the Inquisition can build and grow.”

“You want me, the mage who got lost three different times in the Hinterlands, to guide everyone out of the mountains, alive, with ‘north’ being my only direction?!” She deliberately turns her back on the too open vista and faces Solas. “You were there for two of those jaunts!”

“Herald…”

“No! Three months ago all I had to find my way around was **one** building. _One._ I was 10 when I was sent, and they don’t teach 10 year olds how to scout. Unless you want me and everyone else to die from my incompetence, **you’re** helping me!”

“I… yes Herald.”

“By the Maker you better be calling me ‘Trevelyan’ by the time we get to... where was it again?”

“Skyhold”


	9. Family Time with Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of game dialog to help flesh out Trevelyan's back story.

~Dorian~

“Did you know we’re actually related, Inquisitor?” He was really happy to share this knowledge with the new Inquisitor.

“Related?”

“Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You’re a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree,” she pulled a face at the phrase, “there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course.”

Trevelyan looked impressed, “You know that off the top of your head?”

“Not the top. Maybe the lower middle or thereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You’re taught lesson and tested… by strict nannies. I heard your family name mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes - there it is. I knew there was a reason we looked so much alike.” They really didn't, but he liked pretending.

“Err... Yay?”

“Indeed! Yay!”

“I just, uh, Joyous says that only fools and lackadaisies keep track of those types of things,” Trevelyan rarely talked about family, but from her tone Dorian guessed this was a sister.

“Even saying that back home would give mother the vapors.” Dorian could see it now.

“Would it, now?” 

“Which makes an excellent reason to say it. Black sheep have all the fun.”

“Joyous also likes to get up before dawn and make the guards run with her. So I don’t listen to everything she says.” Definitely a sister, probably older.

“Before dawn?! Sweet Maker why would she do such a thing?”

“Papa had this idea that if Joyous got enough fresh air and sunshine she wouldn't get asthma like Evrion. She took to it a lot better than anyone expected. So now she’s in charge of the family militia.”

“Wait, your branch still has asthma?

“Yours doesn't?”

“No! We bred it out ages ago in search of the perfect mage.”

“Ah. Wish we had thought to do that, then our names might have been more sensible.”

“Sensible?” That’s right, he had never heard anyone call Trevelyan by anything other than her family name or title.

“Mother took Evrion’s asthma as a sign that she and Papa had been too prideful in naming their first after Andraste’s son. So the rest of us are named after Divines,” She frowned slightly.

“ _That’s_ not prideful?”

“Nope, in her mind it’s humble. And it’s worked so far. Mine only comes on when I exert myself, whereas Evrion can’t go outside in the summer, not that he wants to.”

“So, who’re you named after?”

“Ha! You think it’s on accident that no one calls me anything but Trevelyan? I made Josephine swear to never tell.”

“Oh? What did that take? Antivan port?”

“I suspect she could acquire a better bottle faster than I could. I made her a traditional Ostwick stew.” She looked so proud of herself.

“And that worked?” 

“So far,” Trevelyan shrugged with a small smile.

That seemed too easy to Dorian. He’d have to ask Josephine how good the stew was.


	10. Circle Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not cannon, but the wiki/ game doesn't give us much to go on regarding Ostwick Circle life. Magic thesis is total ass-pull on my part.

~Trevelyan~

9:38 Dragon

Trevelyan peeked around the door, counted how many had showed up, and pulled back.

“Are you going to puke again Dozi?” Elizabeth motioned to the waste basket in the corner of the study connected to the classroom.

“No. Maybe. I just really need to pee at the thought of defending in front of all of them.” Trevelyan tried to focus on her thesis and not on the fact that Lady Trevelyan was talking to Ser Kenneth. If she did well she would be an Enchanter, not just a member of the circle. Her adviser, Senior Enchanter Lydia, was very supportive of her work and maintained that Trevelyan would pass with flying colors. She wished Papa could be here, but he had trade negotiations to oversee. 

She risked another peak. Looked like everyone was here. “I can shove you out there if you want,” Elizabeth helpfully offered.

“No, no, I’m fine. Give me a sec to unlock my fucking legs,” Trevelyan gritted out through clenched teeth. Deep breath in, put on smile, head up, leave the room. Easy. Just have to do it. Lizzy made a shoving motion to get her going.

When she entered the cozy classroom Trevelyan made eye contact with everyone: First Enchanter Philippe; Senior Enchanter Lydia; the representatives of the four schools of magic; the Aequitarians rep from her fraternity; Ser Kenneth representing the tower’s templars; her mother, Lady Trevelyan; her older brother René, also a templar; and Sister Breana from the Chantry.

“I’m here today to defend my thesis on the application of fade-touched silks for increasing the speed at which a mage’s aura clears after casting.” Taking a moment to steady herself, she noticed Ser Kenneth eating something. Squinting, she can see it’s peanuts. He’d mentioned he’d bring snacks.

~*~*~*~

“As a demonstration of my thesis, I will be changing the color of that vase. With each subsequent casting note how I need less time to build the spell.”

The rep of the primal school muttered, “Combat spells would be a proper demonstration. Too bad she’s from spirit.”

Without looking to Ser Kenneth for permission, Trevelyan offered, “If you’re willing to hold the shield, I could fire spirit bolts at you. That is if you want a _proper_ demonstration.” René and Ser Kenneth perked up at that.

Draping a mantle of silk around her neck, she fired off a spirit bolt three times as quickly as possible. “And if I increase the quality of silk, I can decrease my time between castings.” She switch mantles and hit the primal rep another three times. Trevelyan was probably taking too much glee in embarrassing the man, but he’d been an ass first.

Unfortunately, everyone was so focused on her or the sweating mage she was aiming at that the spark of energy that glanced off into the tapestry went unnoticed.

It continued to go unnoticed during the question and answer session, during the congratulations, and even during First Enchanter Philippe saying “We still have to put in the paperwork, but you’ll be an Enchanter by the end of the month.”

That’s when a charred piece of tapestry floated down to land on the First Enchanter’s shoulder, causing everyone to look up.

Trevelyan remembered this room was designed to handle the more volatile experiments, which would explain how no one had noticed the fire merrily chewing its way through a third of the tapestry and trying its best to jump to the ceiling. Cleverly crafted vents had whisked away all the smoke.

Panic set in with all the mages trying their way to douse the fire, while Lady Trevelyan forcefully left the room, hauling the panicking Sister Breana with her. The templar on guard in the hall shouted a warning and then rushed in to help, causing Ser Kenneth to bark orders to _not_ nullify the mages.

In the end Ser Kenneth had a good laugh, calling it a new training exercise for the more panicky templars. “You should’ve seen the debate hall after the discussion on the ethics of the practical application of fire spells. **That** was a lot of fire.” 

First Enchanter assured her she was only being considered on her thesis, not on the destruction of the room.

~*~*~*~

9:41 Dragon

“Inquisitor, do you have much experience with politics? I know a little politicking happened between fraternities within the circles.” Josephine was trying to see what type of lessons Trevelyan would need before the Winter Palace. If Trevelyan had any experience like Vivienne’s then they could focus on higher level information rather than the basics.

Trevelyan fidgeted a little, “Depends on how attached the Grand Duchess is to her ceilings.”

Josephine sighed and made a note that Leliana and Vivienne would need to help her teach Trevelyan less violent politics. On the positive side it meant more time with Trevelyan and her surprisingly good cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> René is named after a Divine Renata I. They went with the Orlesian masculine version over the Tevinter Renatus or Antivan Renato to maintain distance from their Tevinter roots. Also picture Lady Trevelyan having Vivienne's attitude about Antiva.


	11. The Great Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after dealing with the Josephine's assassin problem.

~Varric~

His place by the fire always gave him the best advantage for picking up gossip. While it was interesting to learn which servant was slipping laxatives to which noble for being an insufferable git, it was more interesting to track how much time Trevelyan spent with their ambassador. Yes, she had to be there for the strategy meetings, but first Leliana and then Cullen would leave well before either the Inquisitor or Josephine made an appearance in the hall. Their conversations were usually random, and today’s was no different.

“... and her governess said she must have been touched by a spirit of irony to saddle such a serious and fierce child with that name.”

Josephine laughed at Trevelyan’s story, “Truthfully she scared almost everyone in my year. The only time I saw her smile was during dance class.”

“Whenever Joyous talked about her schooling, Mother always looked like someone had pis-, er, shoved rashvine under her nose. All that money on finishing Joyous at an Orlesian school and she still insisted on beating the arms master at swords instead of making nice to the suitors Mother had picked out. She also liked to point out when she used a dance step to win a round, just to thumb her nose at Mother.”

That was another oddity Varric had noticed: Trevelyan made an effort to not swear in front of Josephine. Varric would bet his chest hair that the Inquisitor had such a foul mouth that she could walk into a tavern and all the sailors would be running out 10 minutes later. It was truly enlightening to listen to her in the field when it was just himself, The Iron Bull, and Sera in the party.

A flash of red caused Varric to look up and notice their resident spymaster standing on the second floor balcony, frowning down at the pair of women talking. So he wasn't the only one to notice how close they were becoming.


	12. The Demands of the Qun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not a huge fan of The Iron Bull. You have been warned.

Storm Coast

~Trevelyan~

“They've still got time to fall back if you signal them now!”

“Yeah…”

She wasn't a great military strategist, that’s why she had Cullen, but even she could have told Bull he would need to pick loyalties on a mission that was the equivalent of an awkward family reunion. Instead of having an idea of who was more important to him, here he was, frozen and leaving it to her.

“Are you fucking shitting me?!” She could punch him! She _would_ punch him if he ever froze like this again.

“Boss...”

“You know what? Fine, I’ll make this pox riddled decision!” A choice between the faceless Qun and a bunch of people whose names and terrible singing voices she could match with faces is no choice. “We’re keeping Krem! I _like_ Krem! Krem doesn't want to put me in a bloody collar and cut my fucking tongue out!” Solas ducked the sweeping motion she made at the other hill.

Gatt was glaring. Let him glare, he should have had better info. 

Without waiting to see if he would mess this up further, she grabbed Bull’s horn and called The Chargers off. 

“They’re falling back,” the bastard sounded relieved. Trevelyan’s face felt uncomfortably warm.

“All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are, for what? For this? For _Them?_ ” Gatt had the perfect mixture of hurt and pissed showing on his face. Trevelyan could relate, however she was on the ‘so pissed she might burst into flames’ side of things. She didn't know Bull well enough to be terribly hurt other than on behalf of The Chargers.

“I regret that we couldn't protect the dreadnought.” That almost came out civil. Mother would be so proud.

“So do I,” If Gatt had been a friend Trevelyan would have been giving him a hug and hot mead. Since he wasn't she just watched him walk away.

~*~*~*~

Battlements 

“You wanted to see me?” She had things to do, like casting practice or crafting new armor.

Suddenly two of the guards were attacking Bull from behind.

“Bull!”

“I got it!” One was down with an ax in his chest, and the other staggered back to his feet.

“Ebost issala, Tal-Vashoth!” was all he got out before Bull introduced him to the valley floor.

“Yeah, yeah, my soul’s dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so…” Bull grabbed his arm in pain, “Sorry, Boss, I thought I might need backup. Guess I’m not even worth sending professionals for.”

“You knew the assassins were coming?” Trevelyan was surprised at how even she kept her tone when she felt like pulling on her hair in frustration.

“Little change in the guard rotation tipped me off.”

 **That** was bullshit. “Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?!”

“You go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn't looking?” His need to be an arse was infuriating.

“No! Nor did I go through years of training to fight in close quarters!” He supposedly led a mercenary unit, did he have no grasp of tactics? “I’m a squishy mage! No armor means I’m dead! No warning means I’m defending myself with a dagger!” She jabbed a finger in his direction, “Have you ever _seen_ me kill anything larger than a rabbit with my dagger?! **What** about that situation makes **you** safer?” 

Bull had been hired on as a bodyguard. How was this keeping her safe? Trevelyan needed to ask Krem how many clients survived being guarded by Bull.

“If I had warned you or the guards, the assassins would have been tipped off.”

“So tell me to hide in the tower. Something other than ‘Hey meet me out in the open with no weapons even though you’re a long-range spell slinger’!”

He had the decency to look chastised.

She rubbed at the beginning of a headache. Time to be somewhere else. “Go get that wound looked at and report to Leliana.” She saw Cullen out of the corner of her eye, “Next time have Curly help you. He at least always wears armor.”

Cullen looked up from his report, “...What?”


	13. South of Ridgeline Camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight spoilers for Jaws of Hakkon side quest

~Trevelyan~

"So you're an abomination?"

"What you mean by that?"

"You're possessed by a Fade Spirit."

"That is a simplification of our relationship."

"But you're not going to eat my face or drip Fade pus everywhere?"

"... No?"

" _Fascinating._ "

"Inquisitor," Cassandra broke in.

"Right, want to be an agent for the Inquisition? I guarantee Dorian would love to meet you... might want to steer clear of Vivienne, she'll probably try to cut your head off." Sigrid gave Trevelyan a bemused look before nodding her acceptance. Cassandra and Varric both frowned in slight disapproval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! An update
> 
> Boo! It's freaking short
> 
> A more substantial contribution will be up in a week or two, fingers crossed.


End file.
